


Making Figures

by Alphina



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ballet Yuuri and Skating Victor AU that no one asked for, I am complete Victuuri trash here, Join the club yall, M/M, Odile Yuuri, i don't know how slow the burn is though, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:48:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9911978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphina/pseuds/Alphina
Summary: Ballet!Yuuri meets Skater Viktor.Ballet AU in which Yuuri is a dancer at a new company and Viktor is a renown figure skater struggling to find inspiration for his next season. Enter Yuuri Katsuki, the seductive Odile that melts both his heart and the ice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there. I'm just a dime a dozen writer trying to drown myself in Viktuuri. Please enjoy! :)  
> Not beta read.

Viktor had just won Worlds. Again. This was obviously meant to be a significant milestone in his skating career, yet all he could muster up was a smile and a polite thank you to all his fans and the press when asked how he felt about his fifth consecutive win. Of course, he made sure to be _absolutely_ charming when speaking, ensuring that no one saw through his public persona, one that was of absolute poise and elegance.

However, he was caught off guard during the press conference when one reporter – probably a new one on the job, asked if he had decided on his theme for his next competitive season.

“Viktor! Mr Nikiforov, over here! What are your plans for the next season? I’m sure all of your fans are looking forward to your future programs!”

Taken aback by the sudden and unexpected question, Viktor opened his mouth for a moment before closing again, unsure of what to say. Throughout the competitive season, he had neglected to speak about future seasons, he himself unsure about what to do with his career. While yes, he was at the peak of his career and the youngest he would ever be, the enjoyment he derived from skating to surprise and amaze had gradually lessened throughout the years as the medals he accumulated continued to increase. It was as though he was no longer able to surprise anymore, and the fulfilment from fierce competition fell, as there was no one who seemed to be able to ever reach his level. In his climb to the top of his career, Viktor had been raised on a pedestal and had become an actual statue of a living legend, one that was completely unreachable and out of everyone’s league.

While his audience had paid close attention to his technical skating throughout the season, they had been unable to notice the spark in his eyes fade as Viktor had skated, far too blinded by his celebrity status to be aware of anything that was wrong. Viktor was losing inspiration and becoming far too jaded towards life for even his own tastes. This was the issue. He couldn’t answer the reporter’s questions because he had no clue about his next season. How many more ways did he have to reinvent himself to continue surprising those around him?

Noticing Viktor’s silence, his coach, Yakov, finally stepped in.

“Now, I’m sure you all have questions about Viktor’s next skating season, but this season has barely ended and it’s far too early to announce our future plans.”  
The press conference quickly ended, with Viktor thanking all his fans for their support again before leaving.

-

 **VIKTOR-N** @viktors_girl  
AHHH VIKTOR WINS AGAIN! Can’t wait to see what magic he makes next season #ViktorWorldsWin

 **SKATER-V** @iceiceviktor  
Viktor’s programmes were so beautiful. My skin is clear, my grades are great, everything is perfect. #ViktorWorldsWin

 **NIKIFOREVER** @wodeairen  
Unpopular question, but did anyone notice that Viktor didn’t answer the question about his next season? #strange #Viktornikiforov #ViktorWorldsWin

-

It wasn’t uncommon for skaters to take a short break before continuing with their training for the next season, with Viktor Nikiforov being no exception. However, this season, he seemed to be breaking the norm. A mere two days after arriving back in St. Petersburg, he was back in the rink, working to refine all of his jumps for the next competitive season. The next competitive season… when the previous season had barely ended a few _days_ ago.

Noting the skater’s lone presence at the rink when he had gone to pick up some of the things he had left in the lockers before leaving for Worlds, Yakov sighed in irritation. The rink was always open to his students, but this was too much, even for Viktor. He was supposed to be at his apartment playing with his dog for hours or days, not training this early in the morning. It was 8am, for goodness sake. What was he even training for? They hadn’t even settled on a theme for his next season yet.

Not even bothering to walk to the other side of the rink where Viktor was executing a scratch spin, Yakov simply chose to shout across the rink at his frustrating student.

“Vitya, if you don’t get off the ice in the next five minutes, I’m banning you from the rink for the next two weeks.”

Stunned by the sudden voice when he had thought the rink was empty, Viktor fell out of a spin and landed on his ass on the ice. Rather ungracefully, actually.

“What is it, Yakov?”

“I never thought I would say this, but you need to take a break. Skating two days after Worlds is ridiculous. You may not need a vacation but I do.”

“Do you want a relaxing resort trip to the Maldives? I could arrange it for you, I’m pretty sure I got this number from this lovely lady when I competed at-“

“I don’t want to know anymore than I already do about your… conquests, for lack of better word. What I want is for you to get off the ice right now. And don’t step back on it for at least a few days. This is ridiculous. You are ridiculous. I don’t want to see you at the rink for the next week, do you understand that?”

Viktor was dumbfounded. It was rather unusual for a coach to ask his student not to come for training, but well, Yakov was always a strange one, he thought.

“What do I do instead, then?” Viktor pouted. Honestly, he had come back to the ice this soon after Worlds because he was desperate to find inspiration again and apparently thought that practicing the same quadruple flip or lutz over and over again was going to help him do so.

This was what Yakov had secretly been waiting for. Not that he mentioned it to anyone, of course.

“Look, I have two tickets for this upcoming ballet show. Come with me.”

Looking at Yakov, Viktor stared curiously.

“Did you get them for Lilia? Did she reject you? Are you trying to get back with her or something? Don’t involve me in your failed relationships, Yakov.”

That comment stung, since it was true. Refusing to stoop to Viktor’s antics, Yakov instead chose to take a deep breath and not contemplate telling Viktor to fend for his own skating career.

“Don’t change the subject, Vitya. The show is a new concept that this company is trying out. It features a couple of the company’s potential stars, each dancing to their own interpretation of a variation or piece of a ballet.”

He refused to admit it, but Viktor was intrigued. He had always admired the elegance and grace in which ballet dancers carried themselves, but never really enjoyed the constant repetition of choreography across ballets.

“Their own interpretations? What does that mean?”

“I knew you would be interested.” Yakov tried to hide his victorious grin, but all Viktor saw was Yakov looking as though he had a cramp in his jaw or something strange like that.

Yakov continued. “Each dancer is performing his or own solo routine that is made out of their own choreography to the roles they chose. A personal interpretation of the original variations, if you will. It’s something I think you’ll like, Vitya.”

Yakov was right and he knew it. Although Viktor was reluctant to stop skating for that long, he was interested in watching this show. It was so different from the typical full acts and scenes of the ballets that he had watched in the past. Perhaps this was what he needed to acquire his inspiration again. A break. He could do that, no big deal.

…Who was he kidding? Viktor Nikiforov was a workaholic in his own right, one that spent almost every waking hour of his life on the ice, with the leftover hours spent with Makkachin, his beloved poodle. Makkachin was pretty much a renowned figure on his social media, especially Instagram. His poodle appeared in almost every photo he posted. The entire skating world knew about his not-so-secret obsession with poodles.

“Vitya, the reception is 7pm at the theatre. I’ll meet you there. Don’t be late, and don’t bring your dog. I know you like to do bizarre things like that.”

Laughing, Viktor gasped dramatically, bringing his hands up to clutch at his chest. “Oh, how you wound me, Yakov!”

“That’s enough, Viktor. Get off the ice this instant. I’ll see you later.”

With that, his coach turned and walked out of the rink.

“A ballet show, huh. What should I wear?”

-

“Where is that idiot, is he late?” Yakov grumbled to himself. Viktor was hardly late, but he was never early, either. He seemed to prefer to be fashionably on time, if that was ever a thing.

Viktor walked into the theatre, immediately noticing his coach standing by the side of this beautiful potted plant. He might need to get one of those for his own apartment, he thought to himself.

Viktor was wearing a luxurious Burberry coat, looking every bit the ostentatious skater Yakov knew him to be. He was even wearing sunglasses. It was the evening, _and_ they were indoors.

“Yakov!” Viktor called him over.

“Take off those sunglasses, Vitya.” Yakov casually remarked, leading the way into the theatre’s hall.

As they passed their tickets to the ushers standing by the doors, they were given the repertoire of what to expect for the evening, and ushered all the way to their seats. Their seats were undoubtedly one of the best in the house, being close but not too close to stage, enough so to see the technical details while still being able to enjoy the overall setting and atmosphere of the ballet. Yakov must have been devastated when Lilia had refused him.

After they had settled down comfortably into their seats, Viktor decided to actually flip through the repertoire to understand what to expect from this show. He was on a mission, after all, to regain his lost inspiration.

The cover of the booklet was a glossy black with silver accents on the edges, with the words ‘Take II” scribbled in elegant cursive scribe across the top. He flipped open the booklet, reading the synopsis of the show.

***  
_Created by Minako Okukawa, Take II is a show of inspiration and change. It challenges both the audience and the dancers to interpret otherwise classic ballet roles in a new light. With Take II, you will be presented with the choreography of our very own dancers who have turned Pas de Deux, variations and even roles in the Corps de ballet into individual pieces for your enjoyment. We hope that you will watch this and leave with the greatest satisfaction._

 _Yours, The Hasetsu Company_  
***

If a ballet that wasn’t purely about telling a story was already uncommon enough, Viktor thought that something like this was a rare sight indeed. He was intrigued by what kind of performance this relatively unknown and new Hasetsu Company had to offer.

He turned the page to flip through the list of items to be performed.

***  
_Opening_  
_First Act: Mouse King_  
_Dancer: Phichit Chulanont_

_Second Act: Don Quixote_  
_Dancer: Yuuko Nishigori_

_Third Act… Fourth Act… Intermission…_

_Fifth Act: Odile Variation_  
_Dancer: Yuuri Katsuki_  
***

Now this got Viktor intrigued. To the best of his ballet knowledge, he was aware that the role of Odile was a female one, yet he was fairly certain his minute grasp of the Japanese language was accurate enough for him to identify the name Yuuri Katsuki as a male one. While the previous acts appeared innocent enough, this was the first one that had caught his attention. Odile was meant to be a seductress, one that could steal the prince from Odette. Viktor was interested in seeing how this role would be translated by this already _ Yuuri Katsuki. A voice in the back of his mind even wondered if Yuuri Katsuki was attractive, or thought himself attractive enough to seduce even a man.

Before Viktor could think further into this, the lights in the house dimmed and curtains slowly started to draw apart, signaling the start of the show.

_Ahhh, the show is about to begin._

-

The first couple of items flew past Viktor’s sight, with him appreciating their artistry and fluidity yet not being able to enrapture him. They were nice items, yes, but to him they seemed to lack this certain spark that he was looking for. If artists had muses for their paintings, you could say that Viktor was looking for his own skating muse, since he always saw figure skating as a form of creating art, only on the ice.

He had to admit, though, that Phichit Chulanont’s interpretation of The Mouse King was really something else. The way that he moved his body, it was as though there really were mice (or hamsters) worshipping him at his feet. Very strange, yet greatly amusing.

Viktor hardly noticed when an announcement was called for the intermission. He was enjoying himself, but he wasn't finding what he was looking for here. He needed something, or someone, to wow him.

-

Fifteen minutes later, the curtains drew apart again. This time, the lights had dimmed significantly more, and a familiar piece began to play. It was Yuri Grigorovich’s version of the Odile variation. It was a seductive tune, one meant to enchant and lure hearts and minds.

Viktor’s eyes grazed the stage, where the most beautiful man he had ever seen stood.

So that’s Yuuri Katsuki…

-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally meet! Well, kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while, life kinda got in the way. Before I start rambling, enjoy! I'll mention some points to take note of at the end. 
> 
> Not beta read.

Even before he started to move, Viktor couldn't imagine ever looking away from such a beautiful man. Yuuri Katsuki was a Japanese man of average height, with the slender build of a dancer. From what Viktor could see, he had the most amazing chocolate brown eyes, the ones you could get lost staring in forever. Or maybe that was the dim lighting playing tricks on him, who really knew.

Either way, one thing was for certain. Katsuki Yuuri was _fucking_ gorgeous.

* * *

 

Yuuri was an absolute nervous wreck. While he had performed older items in overseas and international shows previously with the company, his Odile piece was still largely experimental for him and he had no idea how the audience would react to his version of the variation. Swan Lake had always been a classic ballet, and he was afraid that his spin on the Odile variation would be seen as an insult to the ballet, even sacrilegious to some harsh critics. 

When Minako had brought up the idea of _Take II,_ Yuuri had been rather hesitant. While it was without a doubt a fresh idea, he was taken aback by the fact that Minako had enough faith in them all to ask for them to create their _own_ choreography. This was unheard of, and was definitely _not_ in the contract he had signed when he had gotten accepted into the Hasetsu Company (or maybe he had just missed it - after all, his eyesight was pretty bad). The Hasetsu Company was a relatively new company that had been started up by his former teacher (now director) Minako, one that originated from his hometown of Hasetsu. It had been an impulsive decision on Minako’s part, likely an idea derived from her often drunken mind, but somehow the company had actually quickly begun to grow and expand, attracting dancers that were drawn by Hasetsu’s rather contemporary vision towards dance forms.

While Yuuri had encouraged Minako to make the move towards starting her own company, he had not expected her to ask him to join her company. After much persuasion, Yuuri had gone for Minako’s ridiculous idea of an audition - a story for another time, and had officially gotten into the Hasetsu company. It was his first official ‘job’ after graduating college, an exciting venture into the unknown for a usually reserved and timid Yuuri.

Yuuri had gone to college in Detroit, where he first met Phichit Chulanont, the literal mouse king. Phichit had been in the advanced stream of his school back in Thailand, so he was a couple of years younger than Yuuri, yet they had somehow clicked it off amazingly. In a huge lecture theatre that could fit hundreds, Phichit just so happened to sit next to him, and they had formed a friendship and never looked back. Phichit understood and took Yuuri’s anxiety seriously after he had found out about it one day, when he walked in on one of his panic attacks. He suggested they move into their own student apartment together instead of staying in separate dorms, where Phichit had decided to get pet hamsters. Yuuri suspected Phichit had been trying to kill two birds with one stone from this - an apartment complex that allowed pets _and_ the opportunity to live with his best friend. Yuuri really couldn’t complain though, he loved everything about the situation, minus the anxiety and panic attacks that he hated having on display _even_ to Phichit, who was supposed to be his closest friend. 

As fate would have it, both of them had taken ballet rather seriously before college and missed it terribly. A quick call to Minako sensei revealed her plans to start a company, and invitations to join once they had graduated college, after an audition, of course. It was the third biggest decision Yuuri has ever made, the first being his decision to move to Detroit to study.

Now, here he was, getting ready for the debut performance of his Odile piece in a theatre in the beautiful city of Saint Petersburg, Russia. He had thought long and hard about what he wanted the theme of his performance to convey, and while seduction had initially been the last thing on his list of possibilities, when he casually suggested it to Phichit, he hadn’t laughed it off or teased him about it. Instead, he encouraged Yuuri to pursue something out of his supposed comfort zone. Erotic and sexual love had never (well, _never_ was an overstatement) been on his repertoire, yet there just seemed to be _something_ in him that resounded with sensuality, and the idea of _Eros_ and him being one and the same.

It had taken him a very long time to figure out how to flesh out his piece. If he had to be honest, Yuuri was aware that he lacked confidence in both his choreography and dance skills, constantly worried that whatever he ended up producing would never be good enough. It was what he feared the most, that his _a la secondes_ were not perfectly turned out, that he did not gain enough height in his _Jeté Entrelacé,_ or even that his _relevé_ was not high enough. Yuuri hated disappointment, but his fear and anxiety always ended up consuming him whole, resulting in him messing up his performances and ruining the show. Well, Phichit always insisted that no one saw that tiny mistake he made, but he knew better to believe his friend. Phichit was just being nice, as he always was. Yuuri knew he had always been a mess, but he was still fiercely competitive, and held out hope that maybe - just maybe, his Odile piece could satisfy even one person in the audience. That was all his crippling anxiety and fear allowed him to hope for.

Yuuri thought back to his old traditions back in Hasetsu. Whenever he won any sort of competition, he got to eat the most amazing Katsudon made by his mother, but after he joined the company, there were no longer any competitions to be won, and no more reasons to eat Katsudon. He hardly ever got to eat it anyway, since he gained weight so easily. Could you call him ridiculous for deciding that katsudon would be his eros? 

* * *

 

As the music started to ring across the theatre, Viktor watched as Yuuri Katsuki ran his hands down his body, the light reflecting off the rhinestones and sequins that lay studded across his costume. He seemed to turn his head and stared into the audience, as though he had locked eyes with Viktor. Katsuki Yuuri then proceeded to run his tongue across his lower lip, an action that was somehow seductive…? This had never been something that Viktor ever found sexy, yet when it had been Yuuri who had done it, it was absolutely alluring. The act itself was innocent, yet loaded with immense sensuality.

Time seemed to fly past slowly, his Odile variation finishing with him wrapping his arms around himself, as though failing to keep his lover within his reach. His dance was one that was all lines and curves and grace, willowy arms and extensions that seemed to flow for days. It was a piece that ran chills down Viktor’s spine, and that was an uncommon occurrence for him. The Odile variation was one that was meant to seduce the Prince into forgetting about Odette, yet here, without the context of Swan Lake to paint this image, Viktor could somehow imagine that Yuuri was actually trying to seduce _him_.

As the audience recognised the ending of the dance, a standing ovation resounded across the theatre as Yuuri took his bow, his face unexpectedly red, as though he had not expected such an overwhelming reaction to his work. As the applause slowly faded away, he quickly ran backstage.

If Viktor had been merely intrigued earlier, now he was extremely interested. Who _really_ was Katsuki Yuuri?

After Yuuri’s performance, the rest of the items seemed to go by in a blur, with Viktor scarcely paying any attention to them, his mind wholly on Katsuki Yuuri.

Too soon, it was time for the curtain call. Viktor didn’t know much about dance performances, but he was certain that the tradition of flower-giving still survived to this very day. As each dancer was called forward for their bow, the applause only grew louder, with numerous bouquets and flowers being thrown onto the stage - their thorns removed, of course, as per concert etiquette. Viktor knew from first-hand experience of picking up flowers off the ice at the end of his programmes, the pain that was thorns on roses as they stabbed into his horribly fragile hands.

When Yuuri stepped forward to bow, too many flowers flew over Viktor to either successfully land on the stage or just barely miss the mark, and hit Viktor and the other unlucky audience sitting in his row, on the head. _How fortunate that these roses lack thorns…_  

Viktor bent down to pick up the flowers that had fallen near him, missing the apologetic look that Yuuri cast in his direction as he witnessed the rain of flowers. He would just have to apologise later.

The show finally ended with the curtains closing and the theatre lights glowing again. Ushers hurried in, guiding the audience out of the hall back to the reception area.

“So, Vitya, what do you think?” Yakov finally spoke. He had been oddly silent throughout the show, choosing merely to observe and nod in that strange yet typical ‘instructor’ way that Viktor would never understand.

“About what?”

“Don’t act clueless, Vitya. The ballet. It’s different, isn’t it?” Yakov sounded weirdly bemused, as if he knew something that Viktor didn’t. It bothered him. However, Yakov was right. Viktor had enjoyed the show and was thankful to Yakov for introducing him to the most graceful man alive.

“You’re right, Yakov. That was… something else.”

Yakov smirked.

“What else do you want to know, Vitya. I know you too well.”

Viktor swallowed and sighed. Yakov had hit the nail on the head. He did know him well, after all.

“Ahh, well. I was wondering if there are anymore-”

Distracted by his conversation with Yakov, Viktor was unaware of someone walking towards him.

“Hi! I’m so sorry about earlier.” _Holy shit._

Standing in front of him was _Katsuki Yuuri_. His hair remained slicked back, albeit slightly messy, as though he had ran his hand through it nervously several times. He had replaced his sparkly costume with a dark blue jacket and trackpants, the most notable difference being the glasses that now framed his face. Amazingly, if Viktor could say so himself.

“Uhm. For what?” Viktor was genuinely clueless here. All he could think about was the fact that _Katsuki fucking Yuuri_ was right next to him.

“The flowers. They hit you. I told them not to throw them from so far - I told them not to bring flowers at all, but of course they don’t listen and-” 

“It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it!” Viktor raised his hands in what he genuinely hoped as a casual manner. Yakov had always said that he was too over-the-top.

Instead of smiling and continuing on his merry way, Yuuri actually bowed to him, muttering a soft “Gomenasai”. He was being far too apologetic for something so minor, Viktor thought. 

“Really, it wasn’t painful at all!” Viktor hesitated for a moment, before taking a step forward.

“If you _really_ want to apologise, you could tell me when your next show is!”

“I-It’s next saturday.” Yuuri’s eyes were wide and slightly confused. This was clearly not what he had expected to hear from Viktor. 

“Also your dressing room number, if you will.”

“I-Uhm-4F”

“Alright, thank you so very much, Mr Katsuki!” Viktor waved him off with a wink, quickly walking away and leaving Yakov to follow after him hurriedly, not to mention extremely confused.

This exchange left a certain Katsuki Yuuri very confused and slightly shocked. Maybe even a little starstruck. This silver-haired man was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and he looked astoundingly familiar. Did he really just ask for information about the next show?

* * *

 

“What was that about, Vitya?”

Viktor shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you. Don’t play with that boy. 

Viktor, the ever dramatic man, gasped as though in pain from Yakov’s stabbing words.

“I would never!”

Shaking his head, Yakov made to leave the theatre on a cab that he had hailed, bidding goodbye to Viktor.

Although he would never admit it, Viktor did feel _slightly_ hurt that even his coach saw him as a casanova. Really, he just hadn’t found the perfect one for him yet.

He didn’t know who this Katsuki Yuuri was, but he was determined to start finding out, starting with a little delivery to a certain dressing room that sounded familiar to _his_ signature move, the quadruple flip.

  
He had just found his muse, Viktor thought. Slightly amazed. Just slightly, he sweared.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Apologies for my extremely lackluster description of Yuuri's variation, I honestly had no idea how to word it right and didn't want to mess it up. If anyone is interested, I'll probably write a short little piece and throw it on Tumblr or something in the near future. Let me know! 
> 
> I haven't really mentioned this, but do note that i'm taking extremeeeee creative liberties with this fic and that I might make inaccurate references to the ballet world at times. For that I sincerely apologise in advance. Sorry for my incredibly erratic updates, too! I'm clearly not the most consistent writer. 
> 
> If you wanna talk YOI or anything else with me, you can find me on Tumblr at [Shatterthe-ice](http://shatterthe-ice.tumblr.com)
> 
> I'm totally down for screaming about basically everything! ^^

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Apologies for ending it off here, but I thought it was a good place to end, with the entire first chapter dedicated to Viktor's POV. I've already started working on the next chapter, so I hope you guys will enjoy how this story goes. Also, I was crazy inspired by this artwork of an Odile Yuuri on tumblr which I can't find anymore. Could anyone help with that? ><  
> The next chapter should be up within the next week or so! I live and breathe for feedback, so I would totally appreciate any comments or suggestions you have for how I should continue this. 
> 
> Next chapter: Enter Yuuri Katsuki! ;)
> 
> Scream about stuff with me on Tumblr at Shatterthe-ice :) I tried linking previously, but it kinda failed. Some help please? >


End file.
